


lips stained red (from a bottle of wine)

by clairedearing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-05
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairedearing/pseuds/clairedearing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine years, Stiles thinks. Nine years and it only takes that for him to cave to Derek fucking Hale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lips stained red (from a bottle of wine)

**Author's Note:**

> This is so horribly un-betaed and out of character and sigh.

 

-

 

x {Allison} x

 

-

 

When the door opens, Stiles doesn't seem as surprised by her presence as much as he's surprised that it's her; knocking at his front door with a small thin line for a mouth. He gives her a look, up and down, and then looks behind her, at her car, and maybe, she thinks, he's looking to see if she's brought anyone else.

 

"Allison," Stiles greets, shoulders tense and Allison can see the clench of his jaw and the tightness around his eyes. "I would have thought it would have been Scott."

 

"Derek didn't want Scott too far," Allison says lightly, casually, and she knows he picks up on the unspoken 'and Derek doesn't acknowledge my existence except when it comes to things like this.' Human things. Things Derek thinks that Allison understands better than the rest of them because she's _normal._  

 

"I supposed I should invite you in," Stiles says, not moving from his position, leaning against the door to the two story house with it's white picket fence and maintained lawn and economy-conscious car in the driveway.

 

"I suppose," Allison says, coolly, and already knows that he isn't going to. There's a clench in her stomach and a tightness around her heart. She looks around the porch, avoiding his eyes for just a second, to bite back the memory of her head on his chest and a beer between them as they complained about Scott, and school, and life. It seems like a distant dream now; something she just made up.

 

"Or," Stiles says, stepping forward and closing the door behind him. "You could just tell me why you're here, I'll say no, and you can just leave."

 

She can't stop the wince, the tightening around her right eye and her deflected gaze. She had stolen that beer out of her father's cabinet. Stiles had been the only one her father had ever approved off. He was the only one she could ever call a friend to everyone and not have it feel like a lie. Stiles watches her when her gaze flickers back and she knows he saw the split second of hurt on her face. He sighs. 

 

"Or, you could come with me to pick up Jessica," Stiles says, giving her a look that clearly communicates that this is a opening and she shouldn't deny it.  Allison raises an eyebrow as he pulls out a pair of keys from inside the house. He's wearing a blue button up and slacks to her tank top, leather jacket, jeans, and boots. She looks every part of a Hunter, and he looks every part of an engineer he's always wanted to be.

 

"Jessica?" Allison asks, instead of the things she's supposed to say.

 

"Jessica Lydia Stilinski," Stiles says, leading her to the Toyota. "My four year old." He pauses to unlock and open the car door, and sends her a sharp look. "The middle name isn't what you think. It's her grandmother's name."

 

Allison buckles herself in and bites back the 'oh. _Oh._ You've moved on.'

 

"I didn't realize you were married, now," Allison says and Stiles' hands tense around the steering wheel.

 

"I'm not," he says; his eyes never leave the road. "She died when Jess was born."

 

Allison balks. She wasn't expecting that. "I'm sorry," she says, softer. "My aunt died giving birth. We lost her and my cousin."

 

Stiles grows even more tense, and she can see him struggle with something. He's quiet before saying; "Anna had post-partum depression. She almost drowned Jess one night, and when I came back after dropping Jess off at the neighbors, she had hung herself."

 

Allison stills. "Stiles..."

 

He suddenly pulls over the car, veering to the right, and glowers at her. "Allison, listen to me. I've kept all of this away from me for nine years. _Nine._ I don't want you coming back and fucking up everything."

 

Allison nods slowly and looks away as he pulls the car back on the road. "I won't," she says softly. "I really do need to talk to you."

 

Stiles doesn't say anything as they pull into the school's parking lot.

 

-

 

Jessica has blonde hair that's almost pink in the right light. She's a little small for her age, Allison can see, but makes up for it with her father's spirit; she runs straight across the playground and into Stiles' arms before he even really gets out of the car. Her golden hair falls in curly ringlets, and she has brown eyebrows and eyes, like her dad.

 

In that second, Allison wishes to have met Anna. Just from a few glimpses of her daughter, she can already see why Stiles married her.

 

"Hi," Jessica chirps when she climbs into the booster seat in the back. "I'm Jessie! Who're you?" she speaks with a lisp, hissing her 's'es, and a smile.

 

"Hi, Jessie," Allison says, twisting in her seat. She can feel Stiles' lips together. "I'm Allison. I'm an old friend of your dad's."

 

"Alli-All-" Jess struggles with it and Allison grins when she sees Jessica's missing front tooth, complicating her 's'es.

 

"Call me Ally," Allison suggests, smiling. "You are just about the cutest girl I've ever seen, did you know that?"

 

Jessica blushes like her dad, a red flush that floods her cheeks and spreads to the tip of her ears.

 

"Hey, Jess?" Stiles calls softly. "Daddy's gotta talk to his friend for awhile so do you mind if we skip the ice cream?" He gives Allison a look out of the corner of his eyes. "I'm sure Ally has to go soon."

 

Allison flashes him his best shit eating grin. "Actually, I'd love some ice cream." She turns back to Jessica. "What do ya say?"

 

"Yes, please!" Jessica chirps, and while Stiles hides a scowl, he changes their course into town. "Daddy, can me and Ally share some?"

 

"You're going to have to ask her," Stiles says lightly.

 

"Ally?"

 

"Sure thing, sweetie. Chocolate?" Allison asks, raising an eyebrow. "With fudge?"

 

If possible, Jess lights up even more. "Yes!"

 

"Yes, what?" Stiles calls from the front. Jess gasps and corrects herself with a, "Yes, _please_!"

 

Later, when Jessica runs off to play on one the electronic horses, Allison turns to Stiles, licking ice cream from her spoon. She cleans it off and stares at it, twisting it in her fingers. 

 

"Lydia's dead," Allison says, quietly. "At least, we think she is."

 

Stiles is quiet for just a second, processing the information and she watches him go from confusion, to denial, to anger. " _What?_ " he nearly grinds out. "How?"

 

Allison swirls the chocolate ice cream around. "Derek thinks it was another Alpha, but not…not really. Scott said it looked something like a 'super-alpha'." She huffs in irritation and frustration. "I'm not sure what that means."

 

"Derek-"

 

"-can only fight what's literal and tangible. This thing is like a ghost. It left a scent but no-one could follow it." She looks up at him, through hooded eyes and long eyelashes, and she laughs quietly. "You went through Derek's entire library, the town's, and the college’s up north. You know everything there is to know about anything like this. We were…" Allison takes a deep breath. "We were hoping you would know. We're out of options."

 

"I don't know," Stiles says and the look of hope must have been obvious on her face because he gives her a sympathetic look. "I've never heard of anything like this. I'm sorry that you came out here for nothing."

 

Allison shrugs lightly, and tries to keep a sharp lid on the sudden spike of terror, and watches Jessica ride her mechanical pony. "I guess there were ulterior motives. "

 

"Allison," Stiles says firmly. "I'm not coming back."

 

"I know," Allison says and part of her wouldn't even ask now, not after realizing what Stiles had. Her hand drifts towards her stomach and she bites her lip and pushes the thoughts back. It wasn't not fair. Stiles deserved a happy life.

 

But then, it disappears, and in a fit of petty vindictiveness, she turns, and chews on the inside of her cheek. She decides to press forward, without really having a reason why.

 

"Stiles," she says, quietly. "I'm worried about you." She doesn't say we; that would only make matters worse. "Washington's not the safest place, I'd never even heard of this town before yesterday. There are no hunters here, you're not _safe._ "

 

"No, you're wrong there. It's safe because it's far away and nothing that used to happen, happens here," Stiles says, eyes shining with the vehemency she was used to. "That's why I chose it. I would have moved even farther but-" he cuts himself off but Allison knows. It's within driving distance to his father, who gets calls every two days but who Jess has never visited, who Stiles hasn't seen in nine years.

 

"He's doing well," Allison says. She laughs lightly. "He hates retirement, though."

 

Stiles can't help the wry twist on his lips. "I know. He wants to meet Jess so badly."

 

Allison pauses, wondering if she should press forward. She opens her mouth but Stiles cuts her off with an, "No. I said, no, _damnit_ , Allison."

 

Allison feels a hot rush of embarrassment at her pettiness. "Sorry," she murmurs and opens her mouth to say more, to apologize, but Jess runs up, declaring that she's tired and wants to go home. Stiles grins at her and swings her into his arms, burying his face in his blonde hair.

 

(It's for the best because if she starts apologizing, she might start apologizing for other people who may not want her to. She throws away the cardboard cup and thrums with _we'resorrywe'resorrywe'resorry_ and bites back every word.)

 

"Alright, baby," Stiles mutters as they walk to the car and he sets her into her booster seat. "Did you have fun?"

 

Jessica nods and smiles sleepily. "I like Ally. Is she my new mommy?"

 

Stiles freezes and Allison feels something like pain and not quite pity but defiantly sadness pool in her stomach. Quietly, Stiles comes to his senses, kissing Jess' hair and shaking his head. "No, Jess."

 

Jessica's asleep though, and Allison sinks back in the passenger seat as Stiles begins driving home. It's nothing but silence until he sucks in a breath and flips on his headlights. It's dark outside.

 

"She's terrified of water," Stiles confessed, his voice shaking, and Allison recognizes the tone from nearly ten years ago. "I can't even get her into the bath without her trembling. She can't remember anything but she's terrified. I hired a shrink, but it didn't do shit. I can't even leave her alone."

 

Allison stays quiet. Stiles keeps driving. She bites back more apologies. 

 

They turn the corner onto Stiles' street when she catches the shadow in the corner of her eyes. Allison stills and looks at her lap, holding back curses about how the day had gotten away from her, how she had anticipated none of this. 

 

"Stiles," she says, quietly, and reaches slowly down in her boot to pull up a long, curved hunting knife. Stiles parks in the driveway and she can see her Mazda, and her compound bow, tucked in the backseat. Stiles stills as she holds the knife up.

 

Their eyes meet. "I'm sorry," Allison says, and swallows. "I really did want to keep all this away from you."

 

Stiles has enough time for him to comprehend what she means and a angry swear to escape his lips before something lands on top of the roof and nearly crushes them, the sky-window exploding. Jessica wakes up and screams as Stiles swears again. Allison kicks out the windshield and rolls through it, baring her knife with a snarl. Stiles kicks out his door and pulls Jessica out of the wreckage holding her close and starts backpedaling towards the house.

 

Allison's eyes dart back and forth, searching for the shadow again. Stiles puts his back to her and darts between her and the front door. Allison gives him a half-second confused look before the shadow moves across the lawn and leaps at her. She doesn't have time to panic at how big it is or how many teeth it has-- she spins around and lashes out with a kick that sends it flying. It also sends spikes of pain up her leg and she thinks she twisted her ankle with the force she put behind it. She stands on it gingerly and hopes for the best.

 

Stiles dives toward the front door and hits something. Light floods the entire yard, blinding Allison, but most likely crippling the wolf. She thinks 'smart man' because of course Stiles would use a werewolves' advanced eyesight over itself.

 

She needs her bow, she thinks sternly. She needs aconite tipped arrows. Stiles kicks open the front door and nearly dives inside, and for those few seconds Allison can't see what he's doing, but Jessica is wailing, terrified out of her mind. Allison wonders lightly what the neighbors are thinking.

 

"Behind you!" Stiles shouts suddenly, and Allison spins on instinct, slashing out with her knife. It's satisfying to hear how she catches him in the muzzle and her edge shaves off a thick patch of skin.

 

The wolf howls and leaps for her, but doesn't get far. Stiles aims the shotgun and fires, and the wolf flies mid-air, into the edge of the lawn. It howls again, but limps off into the dark, to the edge of the woods across the street.

 

"Shit," Stiles says, letting the shotgun fall from his shoulder after ten minutes for tense silence, waiting for it to come back. "Damnit-"

 

"I'm so sorry," Allison says. Stiles is ready to aim the shotgun at her, she can tell.

 

"Leave," he grinds out and Allison gives him a soft, sad smile.

 

"I can't. It followed me. It'll come after you."

 

"Fucking _leave_ , Allison." He picks up the shotgun and aims.

 

"It'll kill Jess." Allison says, finitely, still smiling softly and she wonders if this is why Kate hated werewolves. There was no grey, just white and black and sure you had the good ones but did you want to risk there being a bad one? "It'll rip her limb from limb like it did those hikers."

 

Stiles looks furious. "Fuck. _Fuck_. I fucking _hate_ you. "

 

"I know," Allison says, ignoring the blood soaking through her jacket and shirt. It sinks into her sports bra and sticks to her breast. She can't stand on her ankle much. "Pack only what you need."

 

Stiles looks murderous and turns back to the house. Twenty minutes later, he has his daughter in his arms and two duffle bags of clothes, the shotgun tucked under his arm. He loads them into Allison's Mazda without a word and transfers Jess' booster seat to her car, even if he doesn't let Jess leave his arms for the entire car ride.

 

-

 

They pull into Beacon Hills early morning. Allison drives towards the Stilinski house first, because it's the only comfort she can give at the moment. Stiles stares at the house, once he gets out of the car with Jess in his arms, as if he's relieving his entire life. He moves forward and knocks on the door almost immediately after he snaps out of it, uncaring that it's six in the morning on a Saturday.

 

Sheriff (even though he hasn't been for awhile) Stilinski opens the door after ten minutes and nearly breaks down. He doesn't because he's Papa Stilinski and instead ushers Stiles and his grand-daughter inside. Allison helps carry in their bags and drops off the booster seat, skillfully hiding the shotgun in the cabinet under the stairs.

 

"I should disinherit you," Mr. Stilinski says with a hard look but Allison can see tears shimmering in his eyes.

 

"I missed you too, dad," Stiles says and passes over Jess who wakes up and rubs her eyes.

 

"Hey, baby," Stiles says softly. "This is your grandpa."

 

This time the tears do come and Allison slips out without a word.

 

-

 

x {Stiles} x

 

-

 

He passes over the photo album to his father who takes it gingerly. The first photo is Anna and it makes his heart break all over again to see her; a young photography major with blond hair and blue eyes that should go with dark hair and a scowl, but don't, and that makes her even more perfect; who loved hot cocoa and kissing his nose. This is his Anna, this is his wife. Not the woman who he found holding their baby girl under the water, not the woman who he found dangling from the ceiling with a smile on her face.

 

His dad turns another page and comes to the 'college years'. It's a collage of Anna's photo's, ones she took, ones she had others take. In the middle is him and her, and his arms are around her and her lips are pressed against his and damnit-

 

Another page turns and this time it's the wedding. On the beach, with eight other people including the officiate and their friends. He's in flip flops and shorts.  She has seashells around her neck and a loose white sun-dress.

 

(He asked her to marry her two weeks before and when she asked him if there was anyone special he wanted to invite, anyone from when he was in high school, he said no and smiled because no meant no-one and no-one meant not his father, not Scott or Lydia, and especially not Derek Hale.)

 

The first ten pages are full of Anna, but then, in Jess' first picture, Anna's smile is strained and she looks down at Jess like she's a parasite--a leech she just pulled off her body and had to coddle and kiss. He didn't realize it when he took the picture, but he should have. He should have noticed the second it started.

 

The pictures continue. Jess grows from a pink blob to a little girl. Anna grows from a happy wife to an angry mother.

 

(When the paramedics cut her down and pronounced her dead, told him there was nothing he could do, he dialed Scott's number, held his thumb over the call button, and cried because he couldn't press down. He couldn't call any of them. He left, and now he was alone.)

 

(No, not alone. He had Jess and he'd never be alone.)

 

"I should have met her," his dad says, angrily. "Damn it Stiles, you lived a day away, you could have-"

 

"No," Stiles says, firmly. "I couldn't. Sometimes I wanted too, but I couldn't."

 

-

 

He sleeps in his old bedroom which has a few boxes from storage, but still has the original paint and bed and covers. He lays down and listens to Jess play with his dad, trying to make up for four years lost time. He's called in to the school with a family emergency, but it works out because summer break's a week away and he can work from his computer. Once those turbine engine blueprints are sent in, he can request time off.

 

The doorbell rings and Stiles knows it's Scott from before his dad can even open the door and call up for him.

 

Scott meets him in the hallway, with a half-grown beard and slightly shorter hair. "Dude," he says, wrapping his arms around Stiles and holding him close. "Allison gave me a run down. I'm sorry. About everything."

 

This is why Scott's his best friend though, for all his single-mindness and Allison-obsession, Scott forgives and forgets when it really matters. Scott doesn't care Stiles hasn't talked to him since the day he left for the University of Washington. Scott just cares that he's back.

 

"It's alright," Stiles says, and feels a grin rise without his consent.

 

"Dude," Scott says. "A kid? Marriage? You named her after me, right?"

 

Stiles rolls his eyes and tries not think about how when Anna had found out she was pregnant, it came down to Jessica and Scott. He isn't telling Scott that. His ego's inflated enough as it is. "Hell no I'm not naming my kid Scotterina. I have no idea why the hell your mom even went with Scott."

 

"Aw, dude," Scott protests but grins. "So, where is she? Does she have your nose?"

 

Stiles rolls his eyes. "She has my ears, eyes, and fantastically spunky personality."

 

Scott smiles, but it's strained. "Allison and I...we've been trying but..." he trails off and Stiles loops a arm around his shoulder.

 

"It'll happen, man. The universe is defiantly sadistic enough to make a Argent-McCall hybrid. You marry her yet?"

 

Scott looks down as they cross into the backyard. "Her parents didn't consent and I didn't want her to elope and break off from them. So, we figured why not skip the marriage part and just be together anyway."

 

Stiles hums understandingly and derails the conversation before it can hit a standstill. "My wedding lasted twenty minutes. The party afterwards however...there were jello shots involved."

 

"Oh my god," Scott laughs. "Pics or it didn't happen."

 

"Hells yes there are pics," Stiles grins. "Tons, and tons of pics." He waggled his eyebrow and Scott breaks out laughing again. "Jess!" he calls to the backyard. The blonde comes climbing out of a tree and Stiles turns to Scott. "No-"

 

"-Werewolf stuff. I know man. I told you Allison filled me in." Scott crouches down and smiles. "Hi, Jessie. I'm Scott; your dad's best friend."

 

"Hi Scott," Jess lisps out and Stiles sits in one of the lawn chairs and has to tell himself that this a mistake and he will regret it, but he doesn't mind seeing Jess happy. Not at all.

 

-

 

He dreams.

 

-

 

He woke up, in the middle of the night to his head pounding and his breathing harsh in his throat. The nightmare still flashed behind his eyelids, a man with a handsome smile and a soft touch who bared his teeth and Stiles didn't say _no,_ damnit, he didn't say no and Peter bit him. 

 

_I'm going to die_ .

 

Stiles bolted upwards and clawed at his chest, trying to force air down his throat, to make sure the skin and muscle were still there, but he couldn't--he couldn't _breathe._

 

_I'm going to die._

 

Carefully, he brought his knees up and wrapped his arms over his head, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths. The moon shined through the window and highlighted the strewn papers he had thrown about. College acceptance letters.

 

_I'm going to die, in Beacon Hills. I'm going to die, in love with a guy that doesn't even acknowledge me existence. Oh, god, I'm going to die._

 

Stiles picked up the only letter his father had sent without him knowing. The only one that was out of California--out of the area. University of Washington.

 

He had to get out.

 

_I'm going to die._

 

_But not here._

 

He tries to make it not so obvious he's terrified.

 

-

 

He wakes up in the middle of the night with the acute sense that something's _wrong._ Stiles reaches out, over the bed to pull Jessica closer, but there's nothing there; no mop of curly hair or Dora the Explorer pajamas. Stiles bolts out of bed, breathless and scans the room, and when that turns up empty, he runs through the house, shouting her name. Something's wrong, something wrong, something's _wrong._

 

Jess is gone, and Stiles slept right through it. He feels sick.

 

"Stiles?" his dad asks, and Stiles looks up, ragged. 

 

"Jess? Where is she--Jesus, dad, have you seen Jess?" he questions, and knows he's begging. His dad reaches out to comfort him but Stiles breaks away. He can't loose Jess too, please, not Jess. 

 

"The last time I saw her, she was sleeping with you," his dad says slowly, already walking towards the phone. Stiles keels over and sucks in deep, chest-pounding breaths, trying to push away the panic attack. She's gone, his baby girl's gone, _Jess is gone._ He's on autopilot when he grabs his old Jeep's keys, and bolts to the garage with the only thoughts on his mind ' _Jess is gone. Derek'll know what to do._ '

 

(It's funny how he's survived this long without Derek fucking Hale and it took that quickly for Stiles to cave.) 

 

Even as he drives to the Hale property, Stiles looks for Jess, coughs on the dust inside of the Jeep, and bites his lip to keep back the panic attack. He skids to a stop in front of the house (it's had a few restorations but nothing much; the roofs still caved in, the paint is still grey and chipping) and realizes they must be in a pack meeting because he can see Allison's Mazda and Scott is walking down the steps towards him.

 

"Jesus," Scott breathes when Stiles tumbles out of the Jeep, wearing dirty jeans and a random shirt. "Dude--are you okay? What's wrong?"

 

"Jess is missing," Stiles gets out in one breath. "She's gone, she's not in the house, I've looked _everywhere_ -"

 

"Damnit," Allison hisses, and makes her way to the Mazda and pulls out her bow and a quiver of arrows. Stiles feels like someone's punched him in the gut.

 

"No, _no,_ " Stiles nearly cries and Allison doesn't meet his eyes and because he knew it. The panic is building in his chest because that _thing_ has his daughter and that _thing_ is a killer and that _thing-_

 

He backs up until he can't back up anymore, crashing into a solid chest. Familiar hands wrap around his wrists lightly and Stiles struggles against them, angry and scared for his daughter, his little Jessie.

 

"It's alright," Derek says in his ear, and Stiles slides to the ground, Derek easing him down. "It's alright."

 

Nine years, Stiles thinks. Nine years and it only takes that for him to cave to Derek fucking Hale.

 

-

 

x {Derek} x

 

-

 

 _He has a daughter,_ Allison had said, looking out of the window. _He has a daughter named Jessie and a wife named Anna._

 

Derek holds onto Stiles until he can feel the panic leave his body, until his muscles relax and his brain eases. Derek holds onto Stiles and tries not to think that he really shouldn't. It's hard to let go, but he does, eventually, and Scott gently manhandles Stiles up and pulls him into the house, setting him gently on the couch. 

 

"Where's Jackson?" Derek asks, aloud, even though it wouldn't be too hard to locate Jackson himself. Allison, tense around him as always, bites her lip and debates whether to answer him or to follow Scott.

 

"He should be close, now," Allison says, and then runs after Scott, sitting next to Stiles and holding him close. Derek watches her, and closes his eyes, trying not to think that he's thirty-one and he already feels like he should be retired. 

 

"But why would it want her?" he can hear Stiles asks. "Why would it take _her_?" His voice is cracking and Derek tries not to think about that too much either.

 

It's Scott, who answers first. "We're not sure," he says, cautiously. "But, it might be because-" and he hesitates here because no matter what he says, it's bound to end up the same way. With fighting and screaming and Stiles leaving. Again. "Because it thinks you're still part of the pack and that Jess was part of the pack and it went for…the weakest one." 

 

Stiles doesn't say anything. That makes Derek worry more than it should. 

 

Allison picks up the conversation to fill the silence. "It's trying to pick us off, one by one. It went after Lydia, first, because she was still human and she couldn't be turned. Then, I guess, it went after me and followed me to…you. Now, it went after Jess."

 

There's another dangerous silence, before Stiles stands up and paces to the wall and back. "Damnit. _Damnit,_ " he says, hoarsely. "I didn't want this, I _told_ you-"

 

"I know," Allison says, and she's not meeting his eyes. "I know, and I'm so, _so_ sorry."

 

"It has my _daughter_ -" Stiles breaks off when his voice runs out of air. He stops and tries to calm himself. "Is it going to…hurt her?" Derek knows that's not what he wants to say, and steps up to the back of the couch quietly.

 

"I don't know if it'll kill her," Derek says, bluntly. 

 

"Then why aren't you _doing_ anything?!" Stiles turns on him, all anger and desperation. 

 

Scott shifts. "We're waiting on Jackson. And then…"

 

" _And then?_ " Stiles questions, but Scott doesn't answer, and looks to Derek instead, who hasn't taken his eyes off Stiles. Stiles looks up at Derek, and for a spilt second, looks betrayed. 

 

"And then we get your daughter back," Derek says, because he can't say 'Jessie'. 

 

-

 

There's a lengthy debate over where Stiles should be and who should watch over him until Stiles interrupts with a hard 'I'm going too'. Like always, everyone turns towards Derek for the final opinion, but he can't deny Stiles this. He doesn't shake or nod his head, he just looks for the trail and hopes he can find it and fast. 

 

Stiles and Allison take the Jeep while Scott and Derek meet up with Jackson, who had questions, Derek was sure of it, but he had to put those on the back burner. Right now, the most important thing was…Stiles' daughter. 

 

 _Jessie,_ he mouths, tasting the words and trying to ignore how nice it is to say, how it's such a Stiles' like name. _Jessica. Jess._ With blond hair and brown eyes and her father's personality. Jessica who would be the perfect person ever created and the center of Stiles' world. He thinks, maybe he could love her too, and then he bites down on that thought and shreds it to pieces.

 

Derek puts on an extra burst of speed and growls as he picks up the scent. It wasn't the 'super-alpha' as Scott had taken to calling it. It was the smell of strawberries and Axe deodorant with a twinge of vanilla. It was Stiles with something else.

 

It was Jessica.

 

"I got it too," Jackson says, pausing for a second and changing his course. "It's leading west, not south."

 

"She's wearing something of Stiles'," Derek says, crossing back into the woods. "It tried to trick us, but the scent's stronger this way."

 

Scott is already texting Allison and catching up with Derek. "They're on their way."

 

Derek follows the trail and promises to kill it, whatever it is. 

 

-

 

Lydia manages to drive the pole through it's throat and Derek manages to roll under it and pull Jessica away from the carnage before the blood can hit her. The poor thing is trembling and wailing for her father; Derek is only too happy to oblige. Stiles sweeps her into his arms and presses his nose into her hair and hugs her close, telling her about how he's never going to leave her ever again and it would make college really difficult but he's moving in with her when she gets older and _god, Jessie, don't do this to me every again._ (They all try to ignore the long gash the girl has down her arm. Derek tries to reason that it couldn't be teeth, it can't be teeth. It's just a scratch. Nothing more.)

 

It has to be a scratch.

 

(It's not.)

 

Jessica, who has no idea what's happened other than that a huge wolf saved her from another hung wolf, manages to stop crying long enough to pat her father's head, and then the both of them start bawling together, and together they have a Stilinski bawl fest. Derek is actually glad that Mr. Stilinski isn't there too because two he can handle. Three, not so much. 

 

Lydia is swaying on her feet, but she manages to run a hand over Stiles' head and kiss his cheek sloppily with a 'you've got a lot of catching up to do.' Derek stays back. This is good, he thinks. Lydia should have married Stiles, he thinks in his blunt sort of way. Jessica would have been born here and Derek would never have to wonder why he wants to hold Jessica and make her smile and maybe make Stiles smile too. 

 

Scott and Jackson are enlisted with the task of burning the corpse while Allison pulls Lydia off to the side and tries to clean her up, and that leaves Stiles holding Jessica still promising her toys and candy and ice cream the minute they get home.

 

The minute they get home.

 

Derek turns on his heel and walks away. (The last time Stiles' left, they had all known it was coming weeks in advanced, and maybe that's what made it so bad. If Stiles leaves in the middle of the night, it'll be easier on Derek, he knows it. He won't be tempted to climb through the window and convince Stiles to stay like last time, and this time he won't fail because he won't even try.)

 

(He finds himself in Stiles' room anyway, with the alarm clock shining '5:03' and Jessica curled up on the bed).

 

-

 

The first time it happened, it went like this. Derek, after days of deciding and backtracking and written pages full of reasons why Stiles' should stay, finally tried.

 

 _Scott needs you,_ Derek said gruffly. _Scott needs you and Allison needs Scott and Lydia needs Allison and Jackson needs Lydia._

 

 _But,_ Stiles has said, leaning against his headboard, legs pulled up to his chin, looking anywhere but Derek. _Scott has Allison, and Lydia has Jackson. No-one needs me._

 

That was when Derek should have said _I need you._

 

He didn't though. He stayed quiet and Stiles' stayed quiet until he asked, _why are you even here?_

 

 _Because I need you,_ Derek didn't say. Instead, he said _because Scott needs you. There are colleges nearby. You can go to school there._

 

Stiles smiled a sad kind of smile in the dark, and Derek wondered where the spastic sixteen year old child went; the one that never shut up and smiled too much. _You don't get it._

 

 _Make me get it,_ Derek growled. _Why are you leaving?_

 

 _Because,_ Stiles said, sliding back down to lay on his back. _Because I woke up one day and I realized I was going to die. I woke up one day and realized that this is my life and I need to know what it's like._ He looked at Derek. _Beacon Hills is werewolves and pack and death. I want a change._

 

_I want to leave._

 

That's what broke Derek, because no matter what anyone thought, he could never force Stiles to do anything.

 

 _But I need you,_ Derek didn't say as he walked towards the window and crawled out. _Everyone needs you. I need you._

 

This time, it's different. This time, Stiles' has a wife and a daughter. This time, Stiles is standing and packing his things, and knows Derek's there without turning. "Next time," he says. "Don't send anyone after me."

 

"I'm sorry," Derek says, but what he means to say is _don't make me send anyone; stay here._

 

Stiles raises an eyebrow. "That wasn't a confirmation."

 

Derek looks steadily at him. "I won't send anyone after you." Stiles nods shortly and turns back to his packing. "Your wife must be worried," Derek murmurs, without really thinking. Stiles freezes.

 

"What?" he questions and turns towards Derek. Derek blinks, and retracts.

 

"Allison said you had a wife," he says, avoiding Jessica, sleeping on the bed. "She must be worried."

 

Stiles stares. Derek tenses. "My wife killed herself four years ago," Stiles says, shortly, and shoves the rest of the clothes into the bag. Derek stares, not visibly tensing, but still freezing all the same.

 

He struggles for the words. "I…didn't know. I'm sorry."

 

"It's fine," Stiles mumbles and drops the duffle bag on the chair. He sits back on the bed and stares up at Derek. "What do you want, Derek?" he asks wearily. 

 

"I'm not going to ask you to stay this time," Derek says, as if he wants to get rid of that hope at all--wants to hear Stiles firmly turn him down and say ' _no_ '.

 

"Scott has Allison," Stiles says, wearily. "Jackson has Lydia. I'm not needed."

 

"She needs you, though," Derek says and gestures towards Jessica. Stiles turns half-way and a small smile comes to his face at the sight of this daughter.

 

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, she does. All the more reason to leave."

 

"I know," Derek says, and he realizes that it's happening again. "I'm sorry," he says, without really having a specific reason in mind. He sort of feels like he could apologize a million times and it would never be enough. 

 

"What for?" Stiles questions, looking up at him. Derek stares back.

 

"Everything."

 

Stiles scoffs. "Me too."

 

Derek doesn't have anymore to say, he realizes. Stiles isn't staying, Derek isn't giving him a reason too. There's no reason to stay in this room anymore when dawn is breaking soon. He turns towards the window and stares out it, ready to walk away, for nine more years, for ninety, if need be and that's what stops him.

 

Nine more years.

 

He can't do that.

 

"Scott has Allison," Derek says suddenly, not turning around. "Jackson has Lydia. She has you. Who do I have?"

 

Stiles stills behind him and stares at him. Derek knows he's wondering if this is a trick, or a game, or a cruel way that Derek is mocking him. "What?" Stiles questions, finally.

 

"Who do I have?" Derek says, again, turning around. "Everyone has someone. Who do I have?" he had Laura, long ago, and before that he had his family and his friends, and he had Kate. There had been those loose moments, when Scott agreed to help him kill his uncle, and the such, but Scott had always needed another reason to keep Derek alive. 

 

Stiles was all Derek had. Stiles, who skipped his lacrosse games and lied to his father and manipulated his chemistry partner, just to help Derek. Stiles who stood down an Alpha and burned it to pieces.

 

He was quiet, sitting on the bed. "I don't know," Stiles said, finally, mouth dry. "I don't know."

 

"I don't have anyone," Derek pressed on. "I had you, and you left. You _left._ "

 

Stiles is staring at him. "Derek…"

 

"You left me." Derek takes a step forward. "You left for Washington, for college, and graduated, and you got married, and had a daughter, you left me."

 

"I did," Stiles says, quietly. "I did, and I'm sorry."

 

"Why?" Derek questions, even though he knows Stiles has told him already. He just wants to hear it one more time.

 

"I was scared," Stiles says, suddenly, and it's so _not_ what Derek's expecting, he doesn't even realize Stiles has said it for a few moments. "I was scared because I was in love, at seventeen, with a _guy,_ six years older than me who was also a werewolf. I was fucking terrified." He looks at Derek. "Anyone would be."

 

"You should have told me," Derek growls, angry at…well, everything. "You should have told me-"

 

Stiles stands up and laughs harshly. "Yeah, right. 'Oh, Derek, by the way, I kinda think I'm in love with you and have been for a year and a half and don't worry about you being a werewolf or anything, that's fine.' Yes, I can see how that conversation would go now. Not only would I be rejected, I'd also be crazy. What a wonderful opportunity, how could I _possibly_ deny it?!" Stiles mocks harshly. 

 

Derek stalks forward and bares his teeth. " _You should have told me._ "

 

"Why?!" Stiles throws his hands up and nearly shouts.

 

Derek responds by wrapping a hand around Stiles' collar and wrenching him forward, pressing his lips against Stiles. They fight for a second, Stiles trying to pull away, pushing at him and shoving, that turns into his hand fisting in Derek's jacket and pulling him even closer. They pull apart when they need air, Stiles resting his forehead against Derek's shoulder, mouth hot on his jacket.

 

"That's why," Derek says, and Stiles glares angrily up at him.

 

"You shouldn't have done that," Stiles grinds out. 

 

"Oh?"

 

"You shouldn't," Stiles says, and this time it's more resigned and hurt. "Damn it, you shouldn't have done that." He threads a hand through Derek's hair and pulls him back down, anyway, running his tongue over Derek's lips and sucking on his bottom lip. 

 

"Please stay," Derek says, words ghosting over Stiles' lips. He could go on, list the reasons that he had written down almost a decade ago, or maybe tell him that Jess doesn't need just her father anymore, she needs the pack; at least for the next full moon, but it's not scary because the pack is here and it'll be alright, Derek can feel it.

 

"Damn you," Stiles says, and Derek can feel him rolling his eyes. "I'm not staying with my dad."

 

Derek responds by bending down and kissing Stiles again.

 

-

 

x {Jessica} x

 

-

 

She _liked_ Derek, though. Derek had pretty blue eyes, and looked like her mommy but not really, and even though he frowned a lot, he smiled at her sometimes and called her Jessie-Bird, and rubbed his nose into her stomach. Sometimes, when he became a doggy, he'd let her sit on his shoulders and ride on him through the forest, even though Daddy didn't like that very much.

 

Derek was strict through. He wouldn't let her leave the table till her vegetables were done and didn't let her stay up and when she didn't brush her hair like she was supposed to, he stood over her and made her do it twice as long. But, she liked it most when he took her to the lake and taught her how to swim and told her about the little mermaid. The water wasn't so scary when Derek was there, holding onto her. It was actually kind of fun, swimming through the lake like a mermaid. 

 

She liked it best, though, when her daddy and Derek would both hug her; even though Derek was still getting used to it and didn't know where to put his hands. Her daddy laughed at him and said that he had to learn how to give the Stilinski hug, and then Derek rolled his eyes. 

 

Derek's better at hugging now, though, so she supposes he really did learn. 

 

(In ten years, Jessica Lydia Stilinski will have an epiphany that she's _different_ and that fourteen year girls don't usually worry about the full moon or getting too angry. In ten years, it won't be her daddy who she goes to, but Derek, who will sit her down on the porch and look up at the stars and start the story with, 'Please don't turn out like your Uncle Scott.')

 

(And she'll laugh because right away, she knows the story has a happy ending.)

 

 


End file.
